Chapter 6 - The Unraveling of Roger
Colton was discharged from the hospital five days later, but he didn't return to the house on Elm Street.
I had moved him and Melody into a quiet two-bedroom beachfront cottage three hours down the coast—a house owned by my aunt. I wasn't going to let my children spend another night in the place where Francine had crushed pills at 5:12 AM.
Roger stayed behind in the big house, alone with the silence and the ghost of his mother’s control.
I returned to the house on Saturday morning accompanied by Uncle David—my mother’s brother—and a moving truck to pack up our clothes and personal belongings.
When I unlocked the front door, the house smelled stale, like old coffee and damp carpet.
Roger was sitting at the kitchen island in the dark, surrounded by empty takeaway boxes and half-filled whiskey glasses. He looked as if he hadn't slept or showered in three days.
"Bethany?" he said, squinting against the morning light as I pulled open the curtains. "Are you... are you coming home?"
"I came to get Colton and Melody’s things, Roger," I said, setting cardboard boxes on the dining table. "And my own."
Roger stood up, staggering slightly. "You can't leave me here, Bethany! This is our home! I've kicked Arthur out! I told him I'm testifying for the prosecution! I gave Detective Miller every document Mom left in the attic!"
I paused, looking at him. "You did?"
"Yes!" Roger said desperately, reaching out to catch my hand. "I gave them her old financial records! I gave them the keys to her storage unit in Jersey! I told them everything I could remember about her old hospital shifts! I am choosing you, Bethany! I am choosing our kids!"
I looked into his red-rimmed eyes. Part of me—the part that had loved him for eighteen years—felt a quiet ache for the broken boy he had been under Francine’s thumb. But the mother in me knew that forgiveness didn't mean going back to the way things were.
"I'm glad you're doing the right thing, Roger," I said gently, pulling my hand back from his grip. "For Colton's sake, I'm glad you found your voice. But trust isn't something you rebuild in a week."
"What are you saying?" he whispered, his voice cracking.
"I'm saying we need time apart," I said. "Colton needs trauma therapy. Melody needs to feel safe. And you... you need to figure out who you are when your mother isn't pulling your strings."
"Are you divorcing me?" he asked, tears pooling in his eyes.
May you like
"I haven't filed papers yet," I answered truthfully. "But right now, my only priority is making sure Colton can walk into a kitchen without feeling terrified of what's in his glass."
I walked down the hallway to Colton’s room, picked up his swim gear, his books, and his favorite blue blanket, and carried them out to the moving truck, leaving Roger standing in the quiet center of his mother’s fading empire.
